


Hermione Granger and the Long Journey Back

by m_oliverfan



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, POV Hermione Granger, Post-Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Professor Hermione Granger
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:34:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26434234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/m_oliverfan/pseuds/m_oliverfan
Summary: Hermione Granger, the brains of the “golden trio” and a war hero to her country, was drowning. The horrors she and her friends had lived through – had fought through for nearly seven years – wouldn’t let her rest, even years after Voldemort’s defeat. Her job at the ministry does not help and her relationship with Ron had fizzled out within a year of the end of the war. Her nights are haunted by what she had to live through. The war may be over, but it never left her, and she fears that she’ll drown in its darkness forever. When she gets a surprise offer to return to Hogwarts and teach the study of Charms, she discovers that a certain blonde professor might be able to chase away her demons, and perhaps help her find the peace that has alluded her for almost a decade.Not totally canon for obvious reasons, and also AU for Deathly Hallows in regard to some things that affect Hermione. Nothing that changes the larger plot, though.
Relationships: Fleur Delacour/Hermione Granger
Comments: 44
Kudos: 288





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is the first harry potter fanfiction i've posted... although it's certainly not the only one i've written. i've been going back in my drafts and finding works that i'm hopeful some of you might enjoy reading, and this is one of my favorites!

Hermione restlessly tapped her pen against her desk. The papers in front of her had started to swim in front of her eyes and lines filled with endless requests had begun to blur into one another. She ran a tired hand down her face and sat back with a sigh.

The building was thankfully empty at such a late hour, and she decided that a walk outside to get some fresh air might do her some good. She stood up and pondered for a moment, before deciding that 10 o’clock was too late to be in the office anyway and that she might as well just go back home. She told Harry all the time not to worry, but she knew that he waited until she was home to go to bed.

She could never decide if it was insufferable or a reason she loved him. She never said anything because she knew he worried incessantly.

Everyone worried.

She packed up her things and walked out of the office, waving her fingers as she did so to put her wards back in place. Even with the new era without threats around every corner, old habits died hard. And, maybe, even though she was loath to admit it to herself, she simply didn’t know how to stop.

She walked through the quiet and empty Ministry of Magic, waving to the security guard on duty and making her way to the visitor’s entrance. She hated using the floo’s, and she didn’t feel like enduring the uncomfortable sensation of apparition after her long day. She often walked home to Grimmauld Place, where she and Harry (and Ginny too, most of the time) had both lived ever since the war ended.

It had been five years, and Harry was well on his way to becoming the best Auror in his division. Hermione worked in the International Relations division at the ministry, and while she hated the adoring stares and star-struck gazes that she was met with every day, she found that she enjoyed the mundane work of talking with ambassadors, delegating international conflicts, and helping witches, wizards, and ‘half-breeds’ gain citizenship or visa’s within the UK.

The Minister had offered Hermione a position in whatever department she wished, and she had many other offers from various publishing agencies, and so everyone was quite perplexed when Hermione picked to settle down into a job that was, as Harry so eloquently put it, “about as interesting as one of Professor Binns’ lectures.”

Hermione didn’t answer their questions, just waved her hand and changed the subject every time. She had a feeling – more of a fear than anything, really – that everyone had guessed why she had chosen a job that was so ordinary. She didn’t say it out loud, but she could see it in their faces. In the way they looked at her.

Hermione took a deep breath once she opened the door to the red telephone booth that housed the visitor’s entrance to the ministry – yet another place that reminded her of the war and how naïve they were her fifth year, to come to the ministry with nothing but Harry’s dreams to guide them. How naïve they were to think they could stand up against Death Eaters twice, sometimes three times, their age. It reminded her of Sirius fading into that archway and that crazy laughter that haunted her dreams –.

BANG!

Hermione jumped and her wand was in her hand in an instant, pointing at the car in front of her. She was about to cast a curse when the car started rolling away. The car had back-fired. Her eyes flicked around and she quickly put her wand back away. She looked down at her hands. They were shaking.

She ran off down the street and hoped that the muggles hadn’t seen anything. She really didn’t want to have Mr. Weasley come knocking on her door.

Harry was in the parlor, pretending to read a book when she got home.

“Hermione.” He said happily, looking up as she walked in. “How was work? Fancy a cup of tea?”

She sat down on the couch across from him and smiled at him exasperatingly. “You know you don’t have to wait up for me, Harry.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Harry said innocently. “Kreacher!” He called out.

A faint pop signaled the house-elf’s entrance. “Yes, Master Harry?”

“Could you grab Hermione some tea?”

“Of course.” Kreacher croaked out. He popped out of the room again.

“Is Ginny here?” Hermione asked.

Harry shook his head. “Traveling for that tournament in Scotland, remember?”

“Oh.” Hermione nodded, trying to look as though she remembered knowing that. She tried to remember the last time she had talked to Ginny, and she could admit that the conversation was fuzzy in her memory.

She had trouble with that, sometimes. Remembering things and talking to people, even people she loved dearly, were very difficult things to do indeed. Hermione stared into the fire that was crackling and bringing warmth into the room.

She didn’t notice Kreacher hobbling into the room, and she jumped when he placed the tea cup on the table next to her.

She didn’t look over at Harry as she tried to calm herself. “Thank you, Kreacher.” She said softly, ignoring the waver in her voice and picking up her tea so that it might help warm her suddenly cold hands.

Kreacher bowed and walked out of the room. It was quiet for a few moments.

“Hermione.” Harry said gently. She still wouldn’t look at him.

She heard him shuffling around and wasn’t surprised when he sat down beside her, putting his arm carefully around her and tugging her towards him.

Hermione blinked away tears she hadn’t realized where there. They were always there.

“Harry, I’m fine.” She said, but even she could admit it was terribly unconvincing.

“You got a letter this morning.” He said softly, reaching over to the side table and holding out a cream colored envelope toward her.

Her eyebrows scrunched together as she took it. She gasped softly when she noticed the wax seal.

She dropped it into Harry’s lap and shook her head, “No.”

“Hermione.” He tried to reason with her, but she stood up. She held her tea tightly in her hands as she walked towards the hallway.

“No, Harry.” She stopped in the doorway.

“You don’t even know what it says.”

“It doesn’t matter.” She whispered. “I’m not ready yet.”

She quickly made her way down the hallway and up the stairs, shutting the door to her room forcefully when she stepped inside.

She tried to calm her breathing, which was quickly becoming erratic and unstable, as she stumbled her way towards the bed, just managing to set her tea down before her shaking hands spilled it all over herself.

She uncorked a small vial of liquid and gulped it down before burrowing into her sheets and wrapping her arms around herself. She tried to calm down her breaths as the sleeping drought took affect almost immediately.

Hermione went about her regular routine for the next week, studiously ignoring the letter that Harry had casually put in the middle of the kitchen table. She wouldn’t go so low as to burn it, and she knew that she would have to acknowledge its existence by throwing it away, so she simply decided that she had enough willpower to ignore the piece of paper until Harry decided to do it himself.

But Kingsley Shacklebolt, who stopped her in the hallway a few days later, had other ideas.

“Hermione!” He called out in his deep voice.

Hermione turned around with a polite smile, ignoring how her chest was tightening. “Hello, Minister.”

“Hermione, Hermione.” He shook his head. “Did you think you could just slip out of here without me noticing?”

She frowned, “I’m sorry, sir, I don’t know –.”

“McGonagall sent me an owl a week ago!” He went on. “And I just want you to know,” He put his large hand on Hermione’s shoulder and she froze, “that you have the full support of me and the ministry. Don’t let us hold you back, Hermione! You were always destined for better things than a silly little desk job.” He winked at her. “But don’t let any of your colleagues in the international department hear me say that. Hogwarts will be lucky to have you.” He patted her once more on her shoulder before walking away. “Just send me an owl when you leave!” He called back.

Hermione closed her eyes and counted the seconds as she held her breath. 10, 11…17, 18, 19… She didn’t care about the glances she was getting from other ministry workers walking down the hall. When she finally reached 30 she let it out and took a deep breath. She barely noticed her feet quickly taking her to her office, but she winced as she slammed the door shut.

She ran her hands over her face and leaned back against the door.

Hogwarts. A chill ran down her back at just the thought…

She shook her head of the thoughts running through it and walked over to her desk, determined to lose herself in the work and ignore these silly notions everyone seemed to have about her going back to… that place. She was Hermione Granger, dammit, and she wasn’t going to let anyone else distract her from the work in front of her. The work that she chose to do. The work that she wanted to do.

She repeated it over and over in her head until she could almost believe the lie.

Almost.

Hermione couldn’t sleep that night. She was also terrified of letting her eyes close. She was out of sleeping drought – she had been taking double what she usually did the past few nights to be sure she wouldn’t have nightmares – and even though she was brewing some in the cauldron on her desk, it wouldn’t be ready until the next day. Without it her nights always ended in Harry barging into her room, brandishing his wand, ready to curse whoever was making her scream in such a way. But it was always her own mind that made her scream, and he usually ended up thrown across the room when he tried to wake her up from her nightmares.

She put down the book she was trying to read a little too forcefully, annoyed that she couldn’t seem to focus on it. She grabbed her robe and quietly made her way down to the kitchen. Maybe a cup of tea would help.

As soon as she walked in, she remembered the reason she had been avoiding this area of the house, and tried desperately to ignore the little piece of paper as she waved her hand and started boiling some water.

She had mastered non-verbal magic to such a degree that she no longer needed a wand. It was helpful, of course, but that wasn’t the reason she had mastered the skill. That piece of wood she had won from Bellatrix made her nauseous just looking at it. She still kept it with her, of course. It was just easier to pretend it wasn’t there.

Hermione drank her tea and stared at the envelope in front of her. She tapped her fingers on the lip of her mug.

“Maybe it wouldn’t hurt…” She murmured to herself as her hand inched closer to the dreaded piece of paper.

She sighed and grabbed it, ripping it open and pulling out the piece of parchment that was inside.

She read:

_Hermione,_

_I hope this letter meets you well. I hope you do not mind, but I have been keeping track of your career in the Ministry. I do not pretend to understand your reasoning’s, but I hope you know you have my respect, Hermione. I think that I could accurately guess that, after the chaos of your six years at Hogwarts, you desired something a little less chaotic to spend your days on._

_Although, I daresay that you know what I am about to propose._

_Professor Flitwick has retired after his honorable 60 years here at the school. Hogwarts is now in need of a professor for the study of Charms, and I will admit that you were the first person to come to mind._

_Do not think that I offer this lightly. I know that you have not set foot on these grounds for three years. Do not think I missed how you chose to take your NEWTS at the Ministry and not at the school like every other Hogwarts student._

_You may feel unqualified, but I assure you that, although you are but a few years older than the seventh years, your life experience far outweighs any degrees or certificates you feel you should have before taking a teaching position._

_I would like your reply by July 15th, so that I can begin other arrangements if you choose to decline. Feel free to visit the castle any time before the start of term – there are a few professors here over the summer holidays preparing classwork who I’m sure would love to show you around your future office and quarters._

_Sincerely,_   
_Headmistress McGonagall_

Harry’s birthday party was a week later, and Hermione apparated to the Weasley’s house after she got off of work on Friday.

“Hermione!” Ginny called out as she walked into the door into the never-ending bustle of the Weasley home. Mrs. Weasley could be heard shooing the boys out of the kitchen and Ginny was standing in the doorway snickering at the sight. As soon as Hermione walked in the house, Ginny ran over and gave her a big hug.

It always caught her off guard, even though Ginny had made it a point to do this every time she saw her, but she recovered quickly and returned the hug.

“Ginny.” Hermione smiled. “How was the tournament?”

“A bloody mess.” Ginny shook her head and led Hermione into the kitchen. Hermione could see Ron, Harry, and Mr. Weasley out in the back yard.

“Oh, Hermione, dear.” Mrs. Weasley dropped her ladle and walked over with her arms wide. Hermione let herself be enveloped in one of Mrs. Weasley’s warm hugs, swallowing her discomfort again as she tried to let the warmth of it run through her whole body.

“Hello, Mrs. Weasley.” Hermione said after she had pulled back and moved over to stir her soup once again.

“Would you be a dear and help Ginny ice the cake, dear?” Mrs. Weasley asked. “I’m afraid I need to keep an eye on this soup – it’s got some of my jumping tomatoes in it, and they have been just so unruly lately.”

Hermione sat at the table with Ginny and started smearing green icing on the cake.

“I take it not everyone is here yet?” She asked Ginny.

“Oh, no.” She shook her head and snuck a glance at her mother before scooping up some icing with her finger and popping it in her mouth with a grin. “Neville and Luna will be here shortly, though. George will be a tad later – says he has something at the shop that’s keeping him.” Ginny waved her hand. “Bill is on his way,” she pointed her hand to the clock on the wall, and Hermione turned to  
see the hand with Bill’s name set to “travelling.” “And Fleur should be any minute.”

“Fleur is coming?” Hermione asked.

Ginny nodded. “Mom likes her a lot more now that her and Bill aren’t married.”

Mrs. Weasley threw a towel at her daughter. “Ginny!”

“You know it’s true!” Ginny shot back.

“And do you?” Hermione asked, laughing slightly.

Ginny nodded. She put another heap of icing in her mouth. “Who’d have thought?”

“And what exactly happened between Fleur and Bill?” Hermione asked. “You’ve probably mentioned it, but I don’t recall.”

“Fleur did it.” Ginny said. “Said that they got married too hastily. A reaction to the war, and all that.” Ginny pretended she didn’t see Hermione flinch. “But even Bill seems really happy. Mum thinks he’s got a girl in London. Auntie Muriel let him keep the cottage and Fleur moved into Hogwarts shortly after.”

Hermione blinked. “Hogwarts?”

“Yeah.” Ginny said. “She teaches there now.”

“Oh.” Hermione said. “I didn’t know.”

Hermione jumped as a hand touched her shoulder, and Mrs. Weasley smiled apologetically down at her. “We told you were over dinner a while ago, dear. She teaches Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

“Oh.” Hermione said.

Thankfully, Harry and the others came through the back door and saved her from any more embarrassment.

“Hermione.” He grinned like he hadn’t seen her at breakfast and hugged her gently.

“Happy Birthday, Harry.” She said as she pulled away.

She looked around him and nodded to the two other men standing there. “Mr. Weasley. Ron.” She ignored how he was looking at her like some sort of lost puppy and turned around. “Can we do anything else to help, Mrs. Weasley?”

“No, dear.” She waved her hand and started shooing them into the parlor. “Go wait for the others.”

Neville and Luna arrived not long after that. Neville looked a little lost when he saw her, and so she stepped forward and gave him a brief hug. She hated seeing that look on any of their faces. Like they didn’t know what to do with her. Like they were afraid she was too fragile to touch.

And, of course, she was.

“I see you’ve still got those Narguls in your head.” Luna said dreamily once she had sat down next to her. Hermione found that she was more accepting of Luna’s interesting comments than she used to be, and had also begun to notice how perceptive they were if you listened closely enough.

“I’m afraid so, Luna.” Hermione said. “Do you have any?”

“Oh no,” She shook her head. “Neville has cleaned all of them out for me, thank goodness. It’s quite hard having Narguls dancing around your head.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Hermione smiled sadly.

“I have a feeling that they will be gone soon, though.” Luna said brightly.

“You think?”

“Oh, yes.” Luna’s eyes twinkled in a curious way.

The door opened again and Hermione wasn’t able to ask Luna what she meant by that. George walked in and Hermione got that pain in her stomach that the sight of him always caused her. Bill walked in a little later, and the scars running down his face didn’t help Hermione as she was trying to concentrate on talking with Neville about the various plants he had planted in the greenhouses at Hogwarts. She tried to pretend she hadn’t forgotten that he was the herbology professor now.

They had started to make their way to the kitchen and the back yard, where a large table had been set up next to a big bonfire, when Fleur walked in, her long blonde hair billowing in the breeze from outside and a smile lighting up her face.

Hermione was again reminded how astonishingly beautiful the Frenchwoman was as she started giving out hugs to everyone in the room, even giving a long one to Bill. Hermione was almost pulled back to the time Dobby took them to Shell Cottage, when her body was full of so much pain she couldn’t speak, when Fleur bandaged her wounds and sang her French lullaby’s when her memories wouldn’t let her sleep.

Hermione blinked back the memories and tried to focus on the blonde woman walking towards them.

“Neville.” Fleur said as she hugged the man and kissed both of his red cheeks. “I ‘ave missed you! The castle ‘as not been the same without you.”

“Well.” Neville stuttered. “You’ll have to come for dinner sometime soon. Luna and I were actually talking about it on the way here.”

“That would be lovely.” Fleur smiled radiantly at him and Luna. Her eyes found Hermione next.

“‘ermione.” She said, her smile turning into something a little softer. She didn’t make any movements to step forward, and Hermione found herself relaxing a little more knowing that Fleur wasn’t expecting the same greeting she had gotten from everyone else. “‘ow are you?”

“I’m well, thank you.” Hermione said as they started making their way to the back again. Everyone else had already grabbed a seat, and so Hermione found herself sitting next to Fleur and across from Luna near the end of the table. Thankfully, Ron was on the other end. “How is Hogwarts?”

Fleur waved her hand. “It is good.” She started putting some food on her plate and Hermione started doing the same. “My students ‘ave still yet to learn how to –” she waved her hand as she searched for the word, “resist the thrall, but,” she shrugged, “it is fine. Anything that keeps their attention, hm?” She sent Hermione a sly look.

“I suppose.” Hermione chuckled. “Do you enjoy it?”

“Oh, yes.” Fleur nodded. “It ‘as been ‘ard to get used to the weather, but other than that it ‘as been wonderful.”

Hermione nodded and stared at the food on her plate. Neville started telling a story about one of his students and her mind started wander. Neville and Fleur were at Hogwarts. That was something that helped her think about potentially accepting the offer, but she could barely even think about the main reason she was so hesitant. Just hearing Neville and Fleur mention being at Hogwarts brought memories of those final wretched days she had spent in the castle. Her stomach was twisting in on itself just thinking about stepping foot on the grounds again.

Hermione jumped when something touched her hand lightly. She looked up and saw Fleur looking at her apologetically.

“I am sorry, mon amie.” Fleur said quietly. “But I think ‘arry is about to give a little speech.” She motioned to where the man in question was standing at his seat.

Harry cleared his throat as the table got quiet.

“I just wanted to thank everyone for coming out tonight.” He said. “I’m not really great at stuff like this, but…” He shrugged. “I just wanted you all to know how important you are to me. I couldn’t have done any of it without you.” He locked eyes with Hermione. “But we lived through it, you know? Against all the odds, we’re still here.” He smiled at her softly and moved his gaze to everyone else at the table. “I love you guys.” He raised up his glass. “To those we wish were here, and to those of us who still are.”

Everyone raised their own glasses and drank to that.

Hermione took a deep breath.

After they ate, some of them went inside while the others moved their seats closer to the fire. Hermione picked up her chair and set it up right next to Harry’s. He put an arm around her shoulder and rubbed her arm.

“That was quite the little speech.” She noted.

“You know I’m not the best with words.” He said. “Not all of us are as gifted as Hermione Granger.”

“If only.” Fleur said. Hermione glanced over and noticed she had followed her over to the fire. Fleur caught her gaze and smiled. The light of the fire danced along her blonde hair in a mesmerizing way.

“So, Harry, how’s the case going?” Mr. Weasley had come up to sit with them. “I haven’t heard anything good from Davis or Lannister. I was hoping that they were just ill-informed.”

Harry ran a hand through his hair. “Afraid not, Mr. Weasley. It’s looking pretty bleak right now.”

“What case is this?” Fleur leaned over to ask.

“Can’t say much, I’m afraid.” Harry said. “Just a new case that’s causing us quite some trouble.”

“Anything serious?” Hermione asked.

He shrugged. “Too early to tell. But it hasn’t even been a decade since Voldemort…” He trailed off. “It’s doubtful anyone would have the gall to try anything like that again.”

“As they should not.” Fleur said.

Hermione stayed a little longer, but decided that it was time for her to leave not that long after dinner. She hadn’t done well with groups of people since before, and she didn’t want to try her luck by staying any longer.

She said goodbyes to everyone, telling Harry that she would probably be asleep whenever he got home, and walked to the front door. It just seemed proper to apparate from the front lawn, even if she was friends with the Weasleys and could do it wherever she pleased.

Fleur caught up with her at the door.

“‘ermione.” She said. She looked a little hesitant. “I didn’t want to tell you in front of everyone because I know you ‘ave not made your decision, but…” She trailed off. “I would love to ‘ave you at ‘ogwarts this year.” She smiled. “It would be nice to ‘ave another friend there.”

“Oh.” Hermione said. “Well, thank you, Fleur.”

Fleur waved her hand. She bit her lip and looked at Hermione as if she was asking permission for something.

Hermione took a small step forward and Fleur took that as a ‘yes.’ She stepped forward and slowly brought her hands up to lightly hold Hermione’s face. She kissed each cheek before wrapping her arms around her.

“Goodbye, ‘ermione.” She whispered as she stepped back.

Hermione walked outside and apparated home.

She did a quick sweep of the wards she had in place before lighting the fire in the parlor and sitting down heavily in a chair.

She watched as the fire danced along the logs and tried not to think about the only thing that was on her mind.

She wanted to go back to Hogwarts.

She didn’t want to go back to Hogwarts.

She didn’t feel confident about either answer, but it seemed as if everyone else knew what they wanted her to do. And they all thought the same thing. They had an answer.

Hermione just couldn’t figure out if she liked it or not.


	2. Chapter 2

A few days later, she was having breakfast with Harry. 

She looked up at him and debated asking a question that had been on her mind. She put down her fork and opened her mouth hesitantly. 

“Will you visit Hogwarts with me?” 

Harry’s head snapped up. He opened his mouth before realizing that it was still full of biscuit and quickly swallowed. “Of course.” He said. He searched her face. “You’ve been thinking about going back?” 

“Of course I’ve been thinking about it, Harry.” She said. “I just…” She shook her head and looked away, “I don’t know if I can.” 

“And so a visit is in order.” Harry said. Hermione looked up to find him smiling at her. “Of course I’ll come with you. We can visit Hagrid – it’s been awhile since I’ve seen him.” 

“Okay.” Hermione nodded. “Thank you, Harry.” She reached forward and squeezed his hand. 

He smiled gently at her. “It’s nothing, Hermione. Anything to help.” 

  
  


They apparated to Hogsmead the next Saturday morning. The all too familiar path up to the gates gave Hermione a bittersweet feeling in her stomach. 

“Remember that time I had an invisible snowball fight with Malfoy?” Harry asked, gesturing down the road towards the shrieking shack. 

“And he ran off screaming like a little girl?” Hermione chuckled. 

Harry looked around them as they passed the Three Broomsticks and Zonko’s and all the other shops they used to visit. He sighed wistfully and gave Hermione a little smile. “We had some good times here, didn’t we?” 

She nodded. “Do you ever miss it?” 

“Yeah.” He nodded. “It was so hard, but it was so good too, you know? We were always fighting for our lives, sure, but I got to spend all my time with my best friends.” He sent her a grin. “It was all absolutely terrifying, but I miss spending all of my time at Hogwarts. It’s always felt like home.” 

“‘It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.’” Hermione recited quietly. At Harry’s confused glance she said, “It’s from a muggle book.” 

He nodded and they walked quietly up the path towards Hogwarts. They stopped at the open gate. 

Harry looked at her. “Are you ready?” 

“No.” She shook her head. “But I don’t know if I ever will be.” 

He grabbed her hand and squeezed. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” 

She nodded and took a deep breath. And they turned and started up the worn path towards the castle. 

Hermione walked the path with her eyes on her feet, unwilling and afraid to glance up at the grounds as she approached. When Harry stopped she finally glanced up. 

She gasped. “Harry.” 

His grip on her hand tightened. 

Hogwarts looked the same as it had on Hermione’s first trip across the black lake as a first year. It looked like it had every year but the last she spent here. Its tall spirals rose up against the gray sky and the lights flickering in the windows spoke of warmth and the comfort that had always awaited her inside of those doors. 

Harry pulled on her hand and they walked forward. They past the forbidden forest and could see smoke curling up from Hagrid’s hut at the edge of it. Hermione could see the quidditch pitch rising up on the other side of the grounds, and the black lake rippled with the cold wind that whirled around them. 

Harry looked at her as they reached the large entrance doors. His eyes asked a question and Hermione turned and opened the doors in answer. She walked through into the entrance hall, took a deep breath, and almost gasped as she was overcome with the familiar smell of Hogwarts. It smelt of books and learning and food and her best friends… she blinked away tears as she gazed around the entrance hall. 

Flashes of memory tried to overtake her. Collin Creevey lying dead on the floor just a few feet in front of her. Lupin dueling with Lucius Malfoy. Bellatrix grinning and stalking predatorily towards her. 

Harry’s voice brought her back. 

“Hermione?” 

She blinked and reached back to grab his hand. She nodded and took a tentative step forward. 

They walked past the Great Hall, she didn’t want to deal with that room yet, and walked up the large staircase. The halls looked the same as they did when she used to walk them with Harry and Ron. 

“Brings back memories, doesn’t it?” Harry asked quietly as he looked around. 

“Good and bad.” She nodded. 

“Hold on to the good, Hermione.” He said. “The dead take care of themselves.” 

They walked the familiar hallways for a few more minutes until they were standing in front of the Headmistress’s office. 

“Do you want to go up and talk with her?” Harry asked. 

“I would like to discuss some things.” She nodded. “But it can wait until later.” 

“Don’t mind me,” Harry said ruefully. “I think I’d fancy a trip to Hagrid’s anyway. You can meet me down there when you’re done?” He grinned. “You can remember the way without me, right?” 

“Of course.” She rolled her eyes and smiled at him gratefully. “I’ll meet you there later.” 

Harry wrapped her up in a hug before walking back the way they had come. 

Hermione turned back to the stone gargoyle, and before she could remember that she didn’t know the password, it started spinning upwards, revealing a staircase leading up to McGonagall’s office.

Hermione walked up the stairs and moved to knock on the office door. It opened before she could even lift her hand.

McGonagall was sitting at her desk, her quill scratching against a piece of parchment in front of her. 

“Just a moment, Miss Granger.” She said. “Please have a seat.” 

Hermione sat down in one of the armchairs in front of the desk and glanced around. The office looked pretty much the same as it had the last time Hermione was here. The portraits around the room where all looking at her, and two in particular seemed especially interested in her arrival. 

Snape sneered at her from his painting and Dumbledore winked at her from behind his twinkling glasses. 

McGonagall finally set down her quill and looked up. “Sorry about that, Hermione. There are still fools at the Ministry who do not like the way we do things here.” 

“Why is that?” Hermione asked. 

McGonagall waved a hand through the air. “School politics. I won’t bore you with an answer.” She linked her fingers together on her desk. “So, Miss Granger, what brings you to Hogwarts today?” 

“Just visiting.” Hermione said. “You mentioned that I was welcome to come before I made a decision.” 

“Why of course.” McGonagall said. “Stay as long as you need.” 

Hermione nodded. “I do have some concerns, though.” 

McGonagall raised an eyebrow. “I’m listening.” 

Hermione took a deep breath. “Professor, I’m not… well.” 

“Of course you’re not well, my dear girl.” McGonagall said. “I daresay none of us are quite well yet.” 

“But,” Hermione started. “Why in the world would you want me teaching children?” 

“Because you are a brilliant witch, Hermione.” McGonagall said as if it was obvious. “The brightest witch of this age, might I say. And I have known that I wanted you at Hogwarts since the very beginning.” 

“I forget things!” Hermione said frantically. “Sometimes very simple things or people or whole conversations.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Loud noises send me back to the war. Whenever someone startles me I usually can’t stop whatever spell I automatically send their way. I get flashbacks at least once a week and if I didn’t take a sleeping draught I would wake up screaming every night.” 

McGonagall was silent for a moment. 

“I just don’t think you know what you’re asking for.” Hermione said finally. “And I can’t go into this without letting you know.” 

“I know more than you give me credit for, Hermione.” 

Hermione sat back. 

“I do not think any of this will hinder your teaching abilities.” McGonagall went on quietly. “And I have to admit that my hope is that time spent here at Hogwarts, doing the very things you love most to do, will help you find ways to heal from that terrible time we lived through.” 

“But I –.” Hermione didn’t want to voice the main reason she was up here, inadvertently trying to make McGonagall take back her offer. “I could  _ hurt  _ someone.” Hermione finally choked out.

“I believe you have more control than you give yourself credit for.” 

“You don’t understand –.” 

“I think I do.” McGonagall said. “And if I thought you were any threat to my students, I assure you I would not have offered you this position. If it makes you feel any better, I will promise to remove you from the grounds if such a situation ever comes up.” 

Hermione sighed. She looked down at her hands that were twisted up in her lap. 

“Do you want to teach here?” 

“Yes.” Hermione answered quietly. 

“Okay, then.” McGonagall sat back. “I think the matter is settled.” 

Hermione looked up and blinked back the tears in her eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, but a knock on the door stopped her. 

“Come in.” McGonagall called. 

Hermione turned her head and watched as Fleur opened the door. She stopped once she saw Hermione. 

“Oh!” Fleur said. “I can come back at a better time, ‘eadmistress.” 

McGonagall waved her hand. “No matter. What can I do for you Miss Delacour?” 

“Madame Pomphrey was ‘elping me tend to some of Neville’s mandrakes and gave me a list of further ingredients she will need shortly.” Fleur walked forward and handed the piece of parchment to McGonagall. “Some of which we will need special permission from the Ministry to obtain.” 

“I see.” McGonagall set the parchment down on her desk. “Thank you, Fleur, I will get back to Madame Pomphrey after I’ve spoken with Fletcher in the Restricted Substances department.” 

Fleur nodded and turned to Hermione. “‘ermione.” She smiled. “It is always good to see you.” 

Hermione smiled at her. 

“Why don’t you show Miss Granger to her quarters, Miss Delacour?” McGonagall asked. “Hermione has just accepted the position and will need to start looking through the lesson plans in her new office.” 

“Of course.” Fleur’s smile was dazzling.

Hermione stood up. “It’s always a pleasure, Professor.” 

McGonagall looked at them over her glasses. “Don’t forget, I expect final lesson plans by the 25 th of this month.” 

Fleur led Hermione out of the office and down into the hallway below. She glanced at her as they started walking down the corridor. “I ‘ave to say, ‘ermione, I am very glad you ‘ave decided to be ‘ere this year.” 

“I think I am too.” Hermione said. 

They made their way towards where Hermione remembered her old Charms classroom was, talking quietly to one another about little things like the weather and that one portrait that always made silly faces to pretty women passing by. Hermione mentioned that Harry was down at Hagrid’s hut waiting for her.

Fleur stepped aside as they arrived at the door. She waved her hand, “After you,  _ mademoiselle _ .” 

Hermione took a soft breath of air and then opened the door to her new classroom. 

Sunlight filtered through the high windows, highlighting the dust particles hovering in the air. She walked down one of the aisles between the desks and ran a fingertip over the larger teacher’s desk at the back. A piece of parchment in the middle of the surface caught her eye. She picked it up, 

_ Dear Miss Granger, _

_ You were always my brightest student. I am finally able to leave in peace, knowing that our students will be in the best of hands. I’ve left my lesson plans inside of this desk, and I’ve left the various helpful publications I’ve acquired in the bookshelves around you. They are yours now. Owl if you need any assistance, although, please note that I am leaving fully confident in your abilities to take my place.  _

_ All the best, _

_ Filius Flitwick _

Hermione set the letter back down and felt a small smile bloom across her face. 

“Is that from Filius?” Fleur asked. 

Hermione looked up and was struck once more by how beautiful Fleur was. Her blonde hair glimmered in the sunlight as she walked across the classroom towards Hermione, and the small smile on her face was dazzling. 

“Yes.” Hermione said, looking away with a blush threatening to overtake her. “He just wanted to wish me well.” 

Fleur hummed and leaned back against one of the student desks in front of Hermione. “See? Even ‘e knows you are a perfect fit.” 

“Why are you so confident in me?” Hermione asked. 

“And why should I not be, hmm?” Fleur replied. She stood up and took a few steps forward so they were closer. “You are the brightest witch of this age.” 

Hermione rolled her eyes and turned around towards one of the windows. “I wish people wouldn’t say that.” 

“Why not?” 

Hermione trailed a finger down the pane of glass, tracing the path of a rain drop as it fell down the window. “It can’t be true.” She whispered. 

She felt more than heard Fleur move closer to her. 

There was a moment of silence. 

“Would you like to see your quarters?” Fleur asked quietly. 

Hermione blinked to get herself out of her stupor and turned around. “That would be lovely.” 

Fleur led her next door, to where her office was, and showed her how to open the secret entrance to her living quarters. It was a simple vanishing spell that hid the doorway, but Hermione noted that no one had ever even mentioned where the professors stayed at night when she was at school. She wondered how she had never even thought of it. 

The space was simple. A living area with a kitchen near the back of it. A doorway off to the side led to a bedroom and bath. 

Hermione sat down at one of the chairs by the window and looked around. “It feels surreal.” 

Fleur reclined against the couch across from her and delicately crossed her legs. “I felt the same, at first.” She shrugged. “But you get used to it. It becomes easier as the students see you and talk to you as a professor. It ‘elps you to believe it yourself.” 

“I don’t know if I’ll ever get there.” Hermione murmured, gazing out of the window beside her. 

“I believe that you will.” Fleur said. “Maybe that can be enough for now, hmm?” 

Hermione looked at her. Fleur was sitting there, looking at Hermione with gentle eyes and a small smile on her face. The anxiousness that had been living in her stomach slowly ebbed away, and Hermione found herself smiling slightly. 

Fleur stood up and walked over to offer her hand to Hermione. “Let us go find Monsieur Potter. I am sure ‘e is wondering where you have run off to.” 


	3. Chapter 3

Harry and Ginny were adamant about throwing her a going-away party, even though she tried to reason with them that she was free to come back home on the weekends and during the holidays and was not really going away anywhere. 

Naturally, Ginny waved her off and started owling people immediately.

Hermione, who felt like her quota for large parties had been filled for the time being with Harry’s birthday party, just sighed and went upstairs to hide away in her room. She sat down heavily in her chair by the fire once she got there. She let herself have a few moments of just breathing – using the techniques that she had found useful whenever she needed to calm her always-anxious mind – before she decided that she might as well start packing. 

It wasn’t hard. Hermione still had her charmed bag from when her, Harry, and Ron were on the run, and she had charmed another trunk in the same way. In weight and quantity, the vast majority of her belongings were books. Thankfully, her trunk was charmed to be weightless as well as limitless. 

She was in the middle of organizing the titles of her books alphabetically by author inside of her trunk when Harry knocked on her door frame. 

She glanced over her shoulder and blew a piece of hair out of her eye. “Hi, Harry.” 

He walked over and sat down on the chair she had occupied a few minutes earlier. “Packing?” 

“Yes.” She sat back on her heels. “Thought I might as well.” 

“When do you plan on leaving?” He leaned forward so that his arms rested on his knees. 

“I can go whenever.” She shrugged, avoiding his eyes and choosing instead to look around the room. “McGonagall wants lesson plans in just a couple of weeks, though, and all the other professors have had all summer to get their classes ready. I need to get started on them as soon as I can.” 

“Right.” He nodded. 

“Is something wrong, Harry?” She asked, noticing that he was fidgeting with his hands. 

He looked up at her and smiled. “I just…” He got up and sat down on the floor next to her. “This is the first time we’ll be apart since…” He trailed off, picking at a small hole in his jeans. “I couldn’t have done it without you, you know?” His voice turned gravelly as he tried to hold in his emotions. “Not just the war, but everything after – the funerals, the rebuilding, the damn  _ quietness  _ of it all.” He rubbed at his eyes. “Ginny’s great and all, but it’s always been me and you, you know?” He looked up at her, tears making his eyes glisten. 

“Oh, Harry.” She reached forward and buried herself in his arms. She let the tears fall down her face as she held onto him tightly. “I know.” 

Harry finally leaned back and wiped his face again. “But this is great.” He gestured to her trunk and her belongings sitting around them. “You are going to be the best professor Hogwarts has ever seen.” 

“Harry.” She said again. “I don’t know if I can –.” 

“You can.” He said firmly, reaching forward and squeezing her hand. “And I am always a floo away if it ever gets too much.” 

“It will.” She nodded, looking away. “I know it will. I don’t know how or when, but it always becomes too much, Harry.” She felt more tears run down her cheeks. 

“It’ll get better.” Harry said. 

“Will it?” She looked up at him. “Will it really ever get better?” She shook her head. “Sometimes I find it hard to believe.” 

He squeezed her hand and pulled her back towards him, and she cried into his shirt as he held her tight in his arms. He talked to her quietly, speaking about nothing at all but knowing that she needed something to anchor her to the ground. 

  
  


At Hermione’s request, the going-away party was very small. It only consisted of Ginny, Harry, Luna, Neville, George, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and Hermione herself. Ron was busy at work (Hermione was relieved) and Hermione didn’t have many friends at the Ministry. She didn’t have any friends there, actually. She preferred to keep her circle small, and she really hated having to explain her occasional panic attacks or outbursts to those who weren’t present with her during the war. 

Mrs. Weasley made dinner at Grimmauld Place, and Hermione tried her best to enjoy herself. It was easier when Harry busted out the fire whiskey. She believed that using substances as a crutch was never a good idea, but sometimes necessity required that she throw that belief out the window at times. Like when her friends where trying to do something for her and she was having trouble not hexing someone when Mr. Weasley busts out a big laugh or when Ginny drops her glass after Harry jumps out at her. 

They said their goodbyes after everyone had their full of both food and wine, and Harry had to lead an inebriated Hermione up the stairs. 

“Harry.” She said. “I’m fiiiiiine.” 

“Oh, I know you are.” He replied. 

“What am I going to do without you?” She asked him as he helped her onto her bed. 

“I’m sure you’ll find someone to help you.” He said, pulling the covers over her and sitting down beside her. He ran a hand through her hair. 

She looked up at him. “Harry?” 

He raised his eyebrows. 

“Can’t you come with me?” 

“I’m afraid not, Hermione.” He shook his head. “But I’ll always be just an owl away.”

She frowned. 

He grabbed her hand. “You’re going to be fine without me.” He leaned forward to press a light kiss to her forehead before walking out of her room. 

She let her eyes fall shut as the door closed softly behind him. 

  
  


Hermione apparated into Hogsmeade the next day. Before she left, she had had to force herself to release Harry from a very long and tearful hug, with him promising to try and visit before classes started and Ginny gently pulling her into her own embrace. Hermione had taken one last look at them both standing in the parlor. Harry had a sad but hopeful look on his face, one arm around Ginny and the other waving goodbye. Hermione closed her eyes and felt the familiar tug in her stomach that signaled the beginning of the uncomfortable process of apparation. She felt herself being squeezed tightly through a dark tunnel, careful not to look too closely at the places flashing around her, before finally landing before the gates of Hogwarts in Hogsmeade. 

She walked slowly up the path, the same one she had walked with Harry just a week earlier. 

It was harder to walk through the grounds without Harry by her side. She tried to focus on something ahead of her – a tree, a dip in the path, some brickwork in the castle – to get her into Hogwarts without losing herself to the ghosts following her or to emotions she didn’t know how to escape. 

She made it all the way to her quarters like that, just focusing on something in her sight, one corridor at a time. She didn’t meet anyone on her way up. 

As soon as she arrived in her office, she started setting up her wards. It was as easy as breathing now, but she made sure to not make them too strong so that people could still come in. She basically created an alarm so that she would know whenever someone walked into her office when she was in her quarters. 

She lost herself in unpacking for a little while, focusing on one item at a time and deciding on the best place for it over and over again. She didn’t stop until she felt her magic shift around her, letting her know that someone had walked into her office. 

She suppressed the urge to draw her wand, knowing that it would probably be someone she knew, but couldn’t help but open her door cautiously. 

Fleur was sitting in one of the chairs in front of her desk. 

“ _ Bonjour _ .” She said, smiling brightly at the sight of Hermione. 

“Oh.” Hermione took a deep breath in relief. “Hello, Fleur.” 

Fleur stood up and walked towards her. “So you are settling in, hm?” 

“Yes.” Hermione said, “Although unpacking is always a little more unpleasant than packing, I admit.” 

“Would you like some ‘elp?” 

“Oh, it’s dreadfully boring, Fleur.” 

Fleur waved her off. “I do not mind, please. I've been looking at my books so long that the walls of my office are starting to turn different colors.” She shrugged. “I do not ‘ave anything else to do, and I enjoy your company.” 

Hermione glanced to the side, trying to hide her blush. “Oh, alright.” She turned and led Fleur into her quarters. “I’ve set my books over there,” she waved her hand to the towers of books against one wall. “If you wouldn’t mind placing them on the shelves.”

“Of course.” Fleur smiled brightly again, seemingly overjoyed at the task given to her, and set right to work. “They are in alphabetical order, correct?” 

Hermione nodded. “Yes and I would like to keep them that way.” She gave her a playful glare. 

Fleur scoffed haughtily. “I am perfectly capable of doing so.” 

They set to work after that, inexplicably comfortable in the silence of doing two separate tasks while in the same space. They talked some, mostly Fleur asking questions about the many books Hermione had brought, but mostly they did their tasks in peaceful silence. After Hermione unpacked her record player, she put on a Fleetwood Mac album and started to hum to the music. 

“What is this?” Fleur asked. 

“A muggle band.” Hermione replied. She paused. “My mum and dad used to sing me these songs as a kid.” 

Fleur listened to the music for a few minutes before announcing, “I like it.” 

Hermione raised an eyebrow, “I’m glad you approve.” 

“It is soothing.” Fleur went on, ignoring Hermione’s comment. “Nothing like French music, though.” 

“Oh, really?” Hermione asked. 

“I will show you sometime.” Fleur threw Hermione a wink. 

Hermione looked away quickly, busing herself with pulling out some of her clothes. “I’m going to go put these in the bedroom.” She hurried down the hall so that Fleur wouldn’t see the blush on her cheeks.

“Thank you for helping me.” Hermione said awhile later, after they were mostly done with the unpacking. She had opened a bottle of wine for them to share and they were sitting in the living area with the fireplace blazing. 

“It is nothing.” Fleur said, bringing her glass up to her lips for a sip. 

“It’s not just the unpacking.” Hermione swallowed. “I don’t like being alone.” She felt Fleur’s gaze on the side of her face, but she kept her eyes on the fireplace. “So, I just – thank you for being here today. Being here, in the castle again, it’s hard.” 

“I can imagine.” Fleur said quietly. She swirled the wine in her glass. “And I will gladly keep you company, ‘ermione. Whenever you require.” There was something in her voice that Hermione couldn’t place.

“You don’t want to promise that.” Hermione said with a slight laugh. She took a drink. 

“I think I will be the one to decide that.” Fleur said. 

Hermione finally looked over at her. She was staring at Hermione, head cocked slightly to the side and an imperceptible look on her face. 

A few hours later, the hands on the clock read a simply dreadful hour to be awake and Hermione finally shooed Fleur out. 

“I will see you tomorrow.” Hermione said, opening the door for her. 

“Breakfast?” Fleur asked. “Seeing as we both missed dinner, I’m sure we will be very ‘ungry.” 

“Of course.” Hermione said. 

Fleur paused at the door. “The morning, then.” She leaned forward and kissed Hermione on both cheeks before stepping through the door. “Sleep well,  _ mon amie _ .” 

Hermione shut the door behind her and leaned back against it. She looked over her new home and sighed. 

She walked into the kitchen and pulled the box full of her vials of sleeping draught out of one of the cupboards. She pulled one out and downed it, walking quickly towards her new bedroom afterwards. She barely had time to pull off her clothing and put on a large t-shirt before she felt her eyes becoming heavy. She fell into bed and into the darkness pulling at her eyes. 

  
  


The next few weeks were full of preparation for classes and running into her fellow professors one by one. Since meals were usually taken in personal quarters during the holidays, Hermione spent most of her days in only the company of Fleur, who had taken to inviting herself over for mealtimes and whenever she was bored. But she saw Slughorn on her way back from visiting Hagrid’s hut and she met the transfiguration professor, Emily Newsbury, on her way to Fleur’s office. She was a slender, brown haired woman, not too much older than Fleur, and looked absolutely petrified to meet Hermione. As soon as she had rounded the corner, Emily’s eyes had gone as wide as saucers, making Hermione wince and turn on a polite smile, merely introducing herself before hurrying off down the hallway. 

Neville arrived a week before term started, and Hermione spent a lovely evening with him and Fleur in Neville’s quarters. He had plants hanging from every spare inch of his living area, and she and Fleur had a great time trying to guess names and properties of the various plants while also daring to touch some of them, which ended in Neville having to empty his storage of various antidotes to his more poisonous ones. 

Planning for her classes was the most fun Hermione had had in ages. She loved thinking about how she would teach a certain topic, what spells to show, and what ones to leave for the students to figure out themselves. 

The evening of the first night’s feast came upon them fast, and Hermione found herself shaking slightly in her office as she tried to calm her breathing. 

“‘ermione?” Fleur knocked slightly on the door as she walked in. She took one look at Hermione and closed the door softly behind her. “What is it?” She stepped forward, just short of touching Hermione. 

Hermione waved her hands. “I supposed I’m just nervous, is all.” She started pacing back and forth. “I mean, what’s the worst that could happen?” 

“Well, I suppose that some of the older ones could start running up for your autograph.” Fleur said. 

“Fleur!” Hermione exclaimed. 

“I think that is an appropriate worst-case scenario.” Fleur shrugged. “But don’t worry,  _ mon amie _ ,” She smiled slyly. “I will distract them long enough for you to escape.” 

“Distract them with what, exactly?” Hermione half-laughed as she asked. 

“My Veela charm, of course.” Fleur looked offended that Hermione had to even ask. “I will send them into a trance that will not break until the morning.” 

“Fleur.” Hermione shook her head. 

Fleur grinned and walked forward, taking Hermione’s hands in hers. “There is nothing to be afraid of.  _ ‘ermione _ .” She said. “I will be there, as will Neville, as well as McGonagall and ‘agrid.” She shook her head. “It will be terribly uneventful and ‘alfway through your main course you will want to leave. And then I will whisk us away and we will go to bed with full bellies ready for classes to start in the morning.” 

Hermione laughed and shook her head. “Okay.” 

Fleur nodded. “Okay.” She leaned forward and kissed both of Hermione’s cheeks. “Now, let us go. I am getting ‘ungry.” 

The Great Hall was empty of students when Hermione and Fleur walked in, and the clicking of their shoes reverberated off of the walls around them. Hermione looked up and noticed that it was a clear night, and the moon and stars where completely visible above them on the enchanted ceiling. 

Hermione took her place between Fleur and Neville and looked out at the hall from her seat at the professor’s table for the first time. 

As students started rushing in, Fleur placed a hand on her knee as if to hold her to the ground. Hermione glanced at her in thanks as she tried not to notice the students starting to stare in her direction and point at her while whispering to their friends. She turned her head and tried to focus on asking Neville about the batch of mandrakes Pomphrey was using.

The line of first years filed in a little later, but the sorting ceremony was a blur for Hermione. Fleur was making comments to Neville the whole time about the absurdity of their housing system, but for once Hermione couldn’t follow or add to the conversation. She was trying to focus on the warmth of Fleur’s hand and the taste of wine in her mouth. Physical things that helped her ground herself in reality, instead of letting her mind float towards the memories that were pulling at her from all directions. 

The last time she was in this hall, it had been full of dead bodies. That’s where Harry and Voldemort had their last stand-off. That’s the spot where Lupin and Tonks died. That’s where Bellatrix was finally killed by Mrs. Weasley. That’s where the Weasley family gathered around Fred’s dead body.

“Can you make it through or shall we make our escape?” Fleur whispered in her ear as they were finishing up their main course. 

Hermione jumped slightly. She turned her head and suddenly noticed how blue Fleur’s eyes looked in the bright candlelight of the hall. Her blonde hair was a halo around her face as she looked questioningly at Hermione. 

Hermione cleared her throat. “I think I can make it through.” She didn’t want to. 

“Are you sure?” 

Hermione pushed her food around the plate with her fork. “Running out halfway through dinner wouldn’t make the best first impression on my students.” 

Fleur squeezed her knee underneath the table. 

Hermione made it through dessert. She let Fleur lead her out of the hall as soon as it was late enough, though, and she couldn’t hide the shaking of her hands as they walked up towards her office. 

“Can I come in?” Fleur asked as they reached her door. 

“I’m fine, Fleur.” Hermione said. “There’s no need –.” 

“May I come in and spend the rest of my evening with you?” Fleur asked again, raising an eyebrow in challenge. 

Hermione opened the door for Fleur and let her through. 

Fleur went straight to the kitchen and poured them some fire whiskey. She brought it back to set it on the side table before moving to where Hermione was still standing in front of the door. Fleur took her hands and led her to the couch. Hermione curled up next to her and gulped down some of the drink very quickly. 

“Tell me about France.” Hermione said. 

“France?” Fleur asked. She looked down at Hermione. She stared into her eyes for a few moments before nodding as if she had gotten an answer to her question. “Of course,  _ ma chérie _ .” 

  
  


Hermione woke up early the next day and immediately started going over her lesson plans for the hundredth time. She arrived at her classroom over an hour early, and tried to find things to do as she waited for her first students to walk in the room. 

Hermione shuffled the papers on her desk nervously as the noise in the hallway increased, indicating that students were on their way to their classrooms. She tried to put on an appropriate smile on her face as the first students started walking in the room. 

They were first years, thank goodness, and didn’t have much courage to do anything more than stare with wide eyes as Hermione waited for them all to wander inside. 

“Hello.” She stood up as the last of them took their seats and waved her hand to close the door. A few students jumped as the door clicked shut. “My name is Professor Granger, and I will be teaching you the study of Charms.” 

The students simply stared at her, and she was suddenly struck with the memory of being a first year herself, new to the magical world and just trying to take in as much as she could. She smiled gently at the students around her and waved her hand so that the chalk started writing notes on the chalkboard behind her. 

“Have any of you ever seen your parents levitate something?” She began. “Or, for those of you muggleborns, have you ever seen something like that on the television?”

The rest of the day went by fairly well. She didn’t have any of the older students – the ones she was really nervous about – and the younger ones didn’t do much more than stare at her all day. Even though it wasn’t exactly ideal, she decided that it could have been worse. 

As the last students walked out of her classroom at the end of the day, she sat down at her desk with a sigh and rubbed a hand down her face. She looked around the empty classroom, amazed that she had just spent the day  _ teaching _ at  _ Hogwarts _ , and laughed quietly as she put her things in her bag and left for her office. 

As she walked out of her classroom and down the hallway towards her office next door, nodding at students as they rushed by, she noticed a certain blonde professor leaning against the wall ahead of her. 

“Can I help you, Professor Delacour?” Hermione asked as she got closer. 

Fleur looked up with a raised eyebrow. “I believe so, Professor Granger.” Her lips quirked upwards. “Why don’t you let me inside and I will show you, hm?” 

Hermione rolled her eyes and walked through the door, noticing with slight confusion as her wards moved effortless around Fleur as she trail in behind her. 

“‘ow was your first day?” Fleur asked as they settled into the chairs that were in front of her fireplace. 

“Better than expected, honestly.” Hermione sighed. “I just had the young ones, though. There’s no telling what the older ones are going to be like.” 

Fleur waved her hand. “They will be even more entranced by you. They will count themselves the luckiest in the world to be taught by the great ‘ermione Granger.” 

“Oh, shush.” Hermione said. She reached down and took out a large tome from her bag. Fleur did the same, and they both relaxed into their chairs as they started reading. Thankfully, there were no papers to grade on the first day of classes.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoy another chapter! thanks for all of the comments - I really appreciate them and they are super encouraging!

A couple of days later, she had a double period with seventh year Gryffindor’s and Slytherin’s. She was quite nervous to meet them, not only because they would most certainly ask the most probing questions, but also because they would have been first years when she was still at school, and second years during the battle. Surely they remembered her, and they would probably ask some very uncomfortable questions. Ones she wasn’t ready to answer. 

She was in the middle of a lecture on silencing charms when a student near the back raised his hand. “Yes, Phillip?” 

“You’re the Hermione Granger in our history textbooks, aren’t you? I remember you from my first year. You were friends with Harry Potter.” 

She raised her eyebrows. “Are we already in the history books?” 

There were a few snickers around the room. 

“So, that’s a yes?” 

Hermione leaned back against her desk and crossed her arms. She supposed it might be good to get this out of the way at the beginning. 

“I am.” She waved her hand. “And I assume all of mine and my friend’s feats are written down quite thoroughly in your textbook. May we move on?” 

“It doesn’t cover most of the year you weren’t at Hogwarts.” A girl near the front, Brandi, spoke up. “Your seventh year.” 

“No, I suppose it wouldn’t.” Hermione said, trying to keep her voice level and calm. It wouldn’t do to have a panic attack in front of her students. “We didn’t make it a point to divulge every minute of our lives that year, as the only moments that truly mattered in the end where the ones spent fighting in this very castle.” She looked around the room. “Now, I do not want you all to make a habit of asking me questions about my personal life or my past during valuable class time. Is that clear?” 

The class mumbled their agreement and Hermione started again with her lecture. She tried to lose herself in the subject, but her heart kept beating out of rhythm in her chest. 

She couldn’t stop glancing at one Slytherin in the back of her class, who had been watching the interaction with a harsh scowl on his face the whole time. Hermione was reminded of a younger Malfoy when she caught the boy’s eye, and decided she should keep an eye out for any trouble from him. That stare reminded her of someone she couldn’t place, but the feeling it gave her wasn’t pleasant. 

At the end of the class period, she breathed easier as the students started shuffling out of the door. She noticed a girl holding back from the rest, though, looking as if she was stalling her departure. 

“Can I help you with something, Chloe?” Hermione asked as she sat down behind her desk. She waved her hand to erase the chalkboard behind her. 

The girl straightened up and walked forward. “I just wanted to apologize, Professor. Phillip can be a bit… brash.” 

Hermione’s eyes flicked down to the Head Girl badge on her chest. “It’s quite alright, Chloe.” She gestured to the badge. “Head Girl? That’s quite the honor.” 

“It is.” Chloe agreed. “You were a prefect, weren’t you?” 

“Yes, I was.” Hermione nodded. “Never had the chance to see if I would get Head Girl, though.” She gazed thoughtfully at the badge for a moment. 

“I think you would have.” 

“Thank you.” Hermione said. “That’s a nice thing to say.” 

“Have a good day, Professor.” Chloe slung her bag over her head. 

“You as well.” Hermione waved as she walked out the door. She sat back and stared at the ceiling above her. 

She was startled out of her thoughts by a tap on her window. Hedwig was perched outside, and Hermione rushed to open it with a smile. 

“Hello, Hedwig.” She said as the owl flew over to her desk, holding her little leg out with a piece of parchment tied to it. “Thank you.” She reached into a drawer and pulled out some owl treats and sat them beside Hedwig as she opened the letter.

_ Hermione, _

_ Sorry I haven’t been able to owl sooner – I’ve got a rough case going on at the moment and haven’t had time for much of anything.  _

_ How is Hogwarts? Are the students as unruly as we were? Do you enjoy teaching?  _

_ Neville and Luna came over a couple of weekends ago for dinner. He told me how you and Fleur were getting along really well. I’m glad, Hermione. We all need people to help us cope sometimes.  _

_ I’m sorry I can’t be there. Tell Fleur I said hello.  _

_ Cheers, _

_ Harry _

Hermione wrote a reply, telling Harry how it was going so far, and how weird it was to be back in the castle. She was just tying it to Hedwig’s leg and giving her one last treat when there was a knock on her door. 

Neville popped his head in. “Hermione?” He smiled jovially at her. “Fancy a walk? I’m all done for the day and I need some fresh air.” 

Hermione stood up and walked over to the door, effortlessly setting up her wards as she left. “Don’t you work outside, Neville?” 

“That just means I’m used to being out there all day.” He said. “I had to work with Pomphrey this morning to get those mandrake potions going. I haven’t been outside all morning!” He shook his head. “It’s killing me, Hermione.” 

She laughed and shook her head.

They walked quietly around the grounds. Neville led her up a little hill near the edge of the lake and sat down, patting the spot next to him. 

“Do you like it?” He asked. “Being here, that is.” 

Hermione looked out over the lake. She could almost see the spot the dementors had almost kissed Sirius her third year. “There are memories everywhere.” She said. “Good and bad.” 

Neville nodded and picked at the grass beside him. “I know what you mean.” 

“What does Luna do while you’re here, Neville?” 

Neville smiled a small smile that he only ever got when his girlfriend was mentioned. “Oh, she keeps herself busy. She’s in healer school at the moment, almost done actually, and her father basically lets her run the Quibbler all by herself. She loves it, though.” 

“Do you ever get to see her?” Hermione asked. 

“Weekends.” Neville shrugged. “We rented out a cottage in Hogsmeade as well, so that it would be easier to see each other during the school year. Evenings and such.” He shrugged. “When she’s there, she sends me an owl holding a daisy flower so that I’ll know. There’s a whole patch in the backyard.” He glanced at her, before turning away, blushing up to his ears. 

“That’s so sweet, Neville.” Hermione said. “I’m happy for you.” 

He nodded and smiled down at his feet. He looked up with a slight frown after a moment. “So, things didn’t go well with you and Ron?” 

Hermione shook her head. “No, not well at all, I’m afraid.” 

“What happened?” 

Hermione looked out over the lake again. “Things happened, that year we were away. Ron left me and Harry for a while because of some childish argument. Afterwards, he apologized and I thought I had forgiven him, but…” She trailed off. “I changed during the war. I wasn’t the quiet, bushy-haired brain girl anymore. I don’t think he liked that.” 

“I’m sorry.” Neville said. Hermione knew that he meant it. 

“It’s alright.” She said. “We realized we weren’t compatible early on. I suppose that’s a good thing.” 

“You don’t really talk anymore, do you?” 

“It didn’t end well.” Hermione said slowly. “There was a lot of fighting and – well – I suppose he didn’t appreciate being cursed by his girlfriend.” 

Neville gaped at her. “What did you do?” 

She waved her hand. “It was harmless.” She ran her hands down her knees and pulled them up close to her chest. “He was throwing chairs around, getting really angry, and he wouldn’t stop yelling.” She shrugged. “I don’t do well with loud noises. I didn’t even really mean to.” 

“Well, whatever it was, he deserved it.” Neville said. 

Hermione looked at him astonishingly. “Neville!” 

He reached over and gave her an awkward one-armed hug. “You don’t deserve that, Hermione.” 

She leaned her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. 

  
  


At dinner that evening, McGonagall stopped behind Hermione’s chair and leaned forward. 

“Would you mind accompanying me for tea this evening, Miss Granger? I have a pressing matter to discuss.” 

“Of course, Professor – I mean, Headmistress.” Hermione said. 

McGonagall squeezed her on the shoulder before moving over to her own chair. 

“What’s that about?” Neville asked. 

“No idea.” Hermione said. 

Fleur walked up just then, and Hermione involuntarily shivered as her hand ran along the back of Hermione’s shoulders as she walked behind her. “ _ Bonjour _ .” She said happily, sitting down beside her.

“Hello.” Hermione said softly, looking down at her food in an attempt to hide her blush. She felt Neville staring at her, and looking over at him saw that he had a weird look on his face. He smiled at her. 

“‘ow where classes today?”

Hermione turned to answer her, ignoring the look Neville was giving and going on about her curious and brave students who had seen her name in their textbooks. 

Fleur laughed at that. “Did you not know that you are in the books now?” 

“It’s not like I’ve read them!” Hermione defended herself. 

“It’s mainly Harry.” Neville said. “I’m mentioned briefly – about when I killed the snake – but you and Ron are almost always mentioned with him.” 

Hermione sighed and picked at her food. 

“What is the issue,  _ ‘ermione _ ?” Fleur asked. “You ‘elped craft our ‘istory. Of course the children will learn about you.” 

“I just don’t like the spotlight, is all.” She said. “I thought that maybe it would wear off with time, but with even the children knowing about us…” She shook her head. “I fear I’ll always be stared at and ogled.” 

“It will not always be like it is now.” Fleur said quietly. 

“It still doesn’t make living with it any easier.” Hermione said. “How am I supposed to move past it if everyone keeps asking me to relive it?” 

Fleur reached forward and put her hand on Hermione’s knee, squeezing it gently. “You do not owe them anything,  _ mon amie _ . You gave them years of your life. You do not ‘ave to give them any more.” 

Hermione looked at her, swallowing hard and nodding. Fleur reached forward and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. 

Neville cleared his throat and said loudly, “This steak is wonderful tonight, I’ll have to tell the elves next time I see one.” 

Hermione chuckled and started eating her own food again. “Yes, Neville, it is truly wonderful.” She glanced over and blushed at the look Fleur still had on her face. 

Later on that evening, Hermione arrived at the stone gargoyle that guarded McGonagall’s office. “Honeydew.” She said quietly, the password causing the gargoyle to hop aside and a staircase to be revealed. 

She walked up the stairs and knocked on the door at the top. She could hear voices speaking inside, but as soon as the door opened for her, they stopped. McGonagall was sitting at her desk, no one else in the room but the portraits around the walls, most of which were pretending to be asleep, but peeking out of squinted eyes every few seconds. 

“Miss Granger.” McGonagall gestured to the seats in front of her. “Sit, please.” 

Hermione sat down. “What can I do for you, Professor – sorry, Head –?” 

“Professor will do.” McGonagall said, flicking her wand and sending a steaming cup of tea floating towards Hermione. She looked at her over the top of her glasses. “Old habits die hard, it seems. I wouldn't mind being called by my given name.” She said as if she knew the offer was pointless. 

Hermione took the cup out of the air. She took a sip and flinched slightly as the too-hot liquid burned as it washed down her throat. She took another, longer sip a few seconds later. 

“I asked you to come here because I have a new position I need to fill.” 

Hermione raised her eyebrows. 

“I assume you’ve met Emily Newbury?” 

“Once.” Hermione said. “In the hallway. She seemed quite petrified to see me.” 

“Yes.” McGonagall inclined her head. “She is a bit like a skittish mare sometimes.” 

Hermione raised an amused eyebrow. 

“At any rate,” McGonagall went on. “As of yesterday, she was head of Gryffindor house.” 

“Oh, really?” Hermione asked. She hadn’t thought of the heads of houses. It surprised her immensely that Emily was one of them. She mentioned as much to McGonagall. 

“Yes, I admit, it wasn’t the best fit.” McGonagall said. “But options were limited. It seems, though, that she has felt the need to step down.” 

Hermione had a feeling she knew where this was going. 

“And I am in need of a new head of house.” McGonagall said. 

“Neville would be great.” Hermione said. “He is the epitome of a Gryffindor.” 

“But Neville has declined my offer.” McGonagall said. “He said that he had enough on his plate as it is, as he is working through obtaining a Masters in herbology while still teaching this year.” 

“Oh.” Hermione said. 

“You are the only other Gryffindor teacher in this school.” McGonagall said. “I cannot be head of house, as I am Headmistress and I would seem most biased, don’t you think?” 

“I just started teaching, Professor.” Hermione said. “How am I supposed to take on this as well?” 

“I have full confidence that you will figure that out.” McGonagall said. She raised an eyebrow, “Perhaps Miss Delacour could help you?” 

Hermione blushed and looked away. “I don’t know what you mean by that, Professor, but –.” 

McGonagall waved her hand. “I do not interfere in the personal lives of my professors, Hermione. What you do outside of the classroom is far from my business.” She sat back and took a sip of tea. “Although, I may say that you could do far worse, Miss Granger. The Veela are mysterious and very powerful creatures. And Miss Delacour is much easier to look at than Master Weasley.” 

Hermione gaped at her. 

McGonagall set down her tea. “But that is not the point of this meeting. Will you accept the position as head of the house of Gryffindor?” 

“What does that entail, exactly?” Hermione asked. 

“The Gryffindor Prefects report to you. You manage any disciplinary actions that must be taken – give detentions, assign other punishments, things of that sort – and are the professor the young Gryffindor’s will look to for guidance.” She smiled wryly. “You will be required to attend all Gryffindor quidditch matches, naturally, and you will help guide the Head Girl and Boy with their duties as needed.” 

Hermione sighed. “I can’t say no, can I?” 

“It would make my life very difficult indeed.” McGonagall said. 

Hermione crossed her legs. “Alright then, I’ll do it.” 

“Very good.” McGonagall said. “Please inform your Prefects, here are their names, and if you see the Head Girl or Boy do inform them as well. I will send out a notice to the professors so that they know who to send their rowdy Gryffindor’s.” 

“Wonderful.” Hermione sighed, standing up. “Thank you for the tea, Professor.” 

“Anytime, Miss Granger.” McGonagall went back to sorting through some documents on her desk. “Do thank Miss Delacour for her revisions on the syllabus for NEWT preparations. I have found it quite useful.” 

Hermione briefly closed her eyes and turned to walk out. “Of course, Professor.” 

“And do be mindful of the children, Hermione.” McGonagall said, smiling slightly and looking up at her. “I don’t want to get any concerned letters from parents. They are insufferable enough as it is. I don’t need you two making it any worse.” 

Hermione walked quickly out the door before her face could get any redder. 


End file.
